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Floaters And Flashers

Questionable heading, I know, but think eyes. When everything is going smoothly, it’s easy to adjust to a new place, a new way of life; but when something goes awry; well, that’s when one’s mettle is tested. Consider me tested. While down at Local Grown on Saturday, which by the way, was hopping with shop talk from the old boys’ table (and I’ll cover that in my next post), I noticed something buzzing around my eye, as if caught in my hair. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Slap, slap,slap. Now, I’m sure the guys enjoyed watching me slap myself silly, but upon closer inspection no bug could be found. My friend Akemi held up a plain white piece of paper and told me to look at it. Yep, there was a nasty little cobweb floating on the page. “Welcome to getting older,” she said with a smile, “you’ve got a floater in your eye.” Akemi was non plussed by my condition and so was I until I got home and flashes of light started bouncing off my peripheral vision. Akemi didn’t mention any light in the getting older package. Naturally, I took a quick look around the house…it was clean. If I was about to have a stroke, the house was clean. Big picture.

On the advice of those around me, I went to the Whidbey Eye Center to have my eye examined. There was an elderly woman and her husband waiting at the same time. While I read that The Boss turned 60 on the latest AARP cover with my one good eye, I tried to remain calm; tapping the meridian between digits four and five on my left hand helps. My turn. The technician, a girl who looked to be in junior high school ushered me into the examination room. I thought she’d offer me a magazine and be on her way. No, she actually tested my eyes, filled out my chart and put drops in my eyes to dilate them. When I was in junior high, I played with eyeliner.

The elderly woman and her husband were in the exam room next to me and I could hear them talking about this and that and then I heard Miss Junior High talking to the woman…”no, your eye is as numb as it will get for the surgery.” The next thing I heard was the doctor entering her exam room. I’m all ears now…it’s all I’ve got since my eyes are so dilated that I’m caught in a drug flashback complete with Doris Day fuzzy edges. Without so much as a “how do you do?” the doctor got right to work. “Okay, look to the left…no, the left. Don’t move. DON’T MOVE.” Miss Junior High’s turn. “Put your hands down…no, no, put your hands down.” I’m frantically tapping my “no fear” meridian, but I can feel that last Altoid I ate trying to climb back up my throat. Back to the doctor. “You’re going to feel some pressure from the needle.”

That’s it! I’m trying to find my purse, pretty sure I can feel my way to the car and drive home when I hear: “Ow!” That would be the elderly lady. “How much more?” “Almost there.” They always say that, but they don’t mean it. The old lady and I both know that. After some time… “There. We’re done. Now, we may have to do that again in six weeks, but I think you’re going to have much better vision in that eye.” “What do you mean ‘do it again’?”

Over in my room, I finally found my purse, but it’s no use. I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to find the door. I drop back in the chair feeling a bit like Dustin Hoffman in that movie where the Nazi is going to drill his teeth without Novocaine. Or was that my oral surgeon? The door opens and Doris Day walks in wearing a white lab coat, but she uses a different name; a man’s name. We exchange pleasantries and the next thing I know there’s a brilliant white light boring into my blown up pupils. It’s so bright I can see all the vessels in my eyeball. And, naturally, I’m trying to scan the back of my eyeball along with the doctor just in case he misses something – like the damn cobweb that’s stuck in there somewhere. No cobweb. A floater. But as Doris says in her most optimistic voice “you’ll get used to it. The flashes may dissipate in time. No retinal tears, optical nerves look good. But do be mindful and if you notice you’re losing peripheral vision, call.” “For an immediate appointment?” “Well, if it’s Thanksgiving and it’s just slight, you can wait until the next day.” As my eyes roll around in my head Marty Feldman style, I offer a little levity. “Thanks. And I’ll try not to bother you on Thanksgiving.” “No problem for me,” he says. “I’ll be out-of-town.” We may not have universal health care here in the States, but one thing is for sure…doctors’ attitudes are universal.

Yes, the web was on my deck, but no one was living in it. I’m sure using the macro setting and zooming in made it look more lethal than it actually was. But there have been some webs that I’ve seen that have spanned from stantion to stantion, a good six feet apart. You only have to walk through one of those once and you remember to look beyond your floater.